Page 8 of His Last Shot
Suddenly, James Taylor sings out of the stereo, and a soft uptick in his smile appears. “You a James Taylor fan?” I ask, interested, even though I shouldn’t be.
His eyes glaze over, a distant stare settling on his face as if the song’s words instantly transport him to another time and place. “He’s the best. I grew up listening to him and other bands from the sixties and seventies.” He leans back in the chair. Easy and carefree. “It’s all my dad would listen to when I was younger. James Taylor, Led Zeppelin, Lynyrd Skynyrd, The Who. You name it, it was blaring from the radio in our garage.” He leaves the memory as he runs a hand over his smooth jaw. “What about you? What’s your music genre of choice, Rachel?”
I lean my elbows against the bar, closer to him, listening to his silky voice. As he talks, it’s like velvet courses through my veins, filling me with warmth. He’spulling me in slowly. “Joni Mitchell and, wait. Are you trying to read me now? What’s your name, anyway?”
“Johnny.”
“Is that short for Jonathan?”
“Nope,” he replies, popping the P.
“Really? What’s it short for then?”
“I think I need to take you to dinner first before we get that personal.”
Phew. Dear Lord.
I am way out of my league with this guy. This conversation is veering into uncomfortable flirty territory, so I need to remove myself before things escalate. Attraction laced with tension builds with every suggestive word. “Nice try. But it’s not happening.”
Unfortunately for me and him, I ignore my advice and, out of habit, I read this guy. He’s confident, that’s for sure, but doesn’t come across as cocky. Self-assured and a flirt. Plus, he’s funny.
My eyes briefly flick at his ring finger. It’s bare. Which means nothing in bars like this. Anyone can slip a ring off and tuck it away in a pocket in seconds. Poof! Single for the night.
Some men are pigs. And not only men. Women are just as guilty. And it’s disgusting.
But that’s not the vibe I’m getting from him. He seems genuine. A family man, perhaps.
He catches me staring at his left hand, then cocks the cockiest of smirks. “Are you reading me, Rachel?”
God, my name rolling off his tongue is doing crazy things to me. And for that reason, I need to get myself in check.
No dating customers, Rachel!
Got it.
Clenching my fists, I push off the bar, rounding my shoulders, needing to steady myself. A swift subject change is in order.
My smile fades, but that zippy current flowing through me refuses to leave. It’s sizzling like hot lava, crawling up my throat, ready to burst. “Are you readyto cash out? I need to close down for the night.” I can’t look at him when I ask this. There is for sure a spark there with this man. But sparks can turn into raging infernos that will blow up your life and cause you unseen misery and pain.
Trust me, I know. And I will never travel that road again.
The bar stool scrapes against the floor. A signal that he’s leaving. With my back to him, I work at closing out the register for the night.
“Can I at least get your number?”
I flick the bills in my hand, counting. “Nope.”
Way to go, me!
He stands and taps his fingers on the bar. “Well, okay then.” I peer over my shoulder and watch as he takes a step, then stops, hesitation gripping him. He runs his palm along his smooth face, then through his hair. Locking eyes with me, he grins as he throws down a twenty. “I guess I’ll see you around.”
With all the casual, I-don’t-care-attitude that I can muster, I grab the money and return to the register. “See ya.”
Watching out of the corner of my eye, I see him pick up his pool cue and slip on his coat, heading for the front door. Now that his back is to me, he has my full attention. Naturally, my gaze wanders downward. GoodGod, his butt is phenomenal in those jeans. “Wow,” I mouth silently.
His whole aura, the way he moves and speaks, has already stolen my heart. He’s sharp yet also rugged, seasoned in a way that tells me he has stories to share. Good ones, I’m sure. And I want to know them all.
Plus, he appears older. So that’s two rules of mine that he’s breaking. Age and being a customer.
